Ranma: Kingdoms Invasion
by Sargon Dorsai
Summary: A well meant wish by a certain Tendo catapults Ranma into a world of magic and swords where he must learn to survive and struggle in the dawn of a war that will engulf an entire world.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Ranma or any of the characters associated therein. This story is written for entertainment purposes only and no money is made from its production. On that note, I hope you enjoy the story.

Nerima Ward, Tokyo City, Japan. Home to overpowered martial artists, demons, shape changers, cross dressers and the resident chaos magnet, one Ranma Saotome, who was currently being chased by most of the people just listed. Whether fiancée, rival, or interested participator, each person in the impromptu parade was attempting to catch the wildly dodging pigtailed martial artist.

Standing outside the Tendo compound, watching the parade, was Kasumi Tendo, eldest daughter and partial slave of the Tendo Family. Broom in hand, she continued to sweep the walkway, a serene smile on her lips, eyes partially closed, for all appearances oblivious to the world except for occasional glances at the rampaging group. Only the tightening of her grip on the broom gave any indication to the turmoil raging within her. Unshed tears brim at the edge of her eyes as she strugglea to control her feelings. Every day, fighting for his life, while still trying to help out around the house. Never taking advantage of his opponents, or of the various women who threw themselves at him. Not even taking advantage of her.

A blush stained her cheeks as she recalled one time when she had offered herself to him, breaking down in tears after the failed wedding to Akane after everyone had left the place in shambles and only she was willing to clean up. The sight of the ruined and almost destroyed dojo almost brought her to tears in itself, but it was the indifference of everyone else that finally broke through her shell of carefully constructed oblivion.

At the time, she had been startled away from her tears by a rustling in the rubble, a shifting of wood and stone as a battered form rose from the wreckage, dressed in a ruined tuxedo. Ranma slowly rose to his feet, in female form after a chance encounter with cold water, wincing in pain from the explosions and beating he had received. Looking around, he had merely sighed, reaching for a cup of water that had somehow survived the mayhem. A burst of focused ki heated the water, changing him back to male form. After one last glance around, he then proceeded to begin cleaning up the mess, slowly, methodically, with the same quiet efficiency he always used helping around the house.

Kasumi watched the battered warrior the entire time as Ranma righted pillars, hammering them into place with his bruised hands. There was none of the usual bravado that permeated his every action, that cockiness that seemed to draw women and anger rivals like nothing else could. Instead, it was a subtle display of power and economy, strength and control. Her heart thundering in her chest at the display, Kasumi finally understood why all those women chased after Ranma. No longer could she look at him like the younger brother he had come to be. In an uncharacteristic display of emotion, she had thrown herself at him, tackling him to the floor and sobbing into his chest. It was cute the way he had panicked and tried to make everything right until she'd calmed down and suddenly kissed the started boy.

The kiss wasn't fantastic or spectacular. Kasumi remembered better kisses in high school. The fact that Ranma barely responded went a long way towards killing the fire that had been suddenly ignited within the normally docile woman, but she had to try. Her words were heartfelt as she asked him to kiss her back, to please kiss her. Instead, she found his finger on her lips, a soft smile on his own as he kissed the top of her head, saying she deserved better. Then helping her to her feet, he gently chided her back to cleaning the dojo.

Since then, it had seemed that things would quiet down. As if sensing they had gone too far, all the rivals and fiancées had backed off, giving Ranma space to breath, to try and make his life somewhat normal. No random challengers arrived to face Ranma and even Ms. Hinako settled down in school when she saw Ranma paying more attention instead of sleeping. The only person Ranma really had to deal with was Akane and he had finally come to the conclusion that she was never going to trust him, always seeing him as the convenient punching bag, a focus for her own insecurities and anger at herself and others. So he stopped taking it. There was no point in letting her hit him anymore. She could no longer hurt him, which meant the hardening conditioning was useless with her anymore. So he stopped. Anytime she would blow up at him, he would just stop talking instead of putting his foot in his mouth, and if she still attacked him, he would dodge her mallet and disarm her. The one time she actually swung at him with her fist, he'd dislocated her arm and she wasn't able to use it the rest of the day.

That lasted all of two weeks. Then the craziness returned, with everyone trying even harder to date or kill Ranma, as if to make up for lost time. And that led them to today, one month later. Ranma, nearly 18 and the focus of love or hate for almost every powerful entity in range. Ranma, who finally had enough of running and stopped in his tracks, turning around to face the combined might of Nerima. Ranma, who was glowing with a deep golden aura as he waiting in the street in front of the Tendo Compound. With a roar, he tore into the front lines, weaving between blows and striking his opponents with paralysis shiatsu.

All the while, Kasumi watched with trepidation, hoping that nothing would harm Ranma. Inwardly, she prayed. "Please, let nothing happen to Ranma. Oh, I wish he could be somewhere that he didn't have to deal with all these people."

"Wish Granted." The sound was almost too faint to hear but the apparent results could not be ignored. A towering pillow of blue light pierced down from the heavens, engulfing the pigtailed martial artist and knocking aside anyone who happened to be near him. There was no sound, as if the world was standing in silent witness of a momentous event, without quite understanding what was going on. The light intensified and everyone still able to see covered their eyes. When finally the light faded, there was no sign of Ranma, only a golden plaque on the ground reading, "So Be It".

The reactions were mixed and varied, from confusion to joy and anger. Joy from those many rivals who saw this as a sign of the demise of their hated foe, while one member of that same group crowed about the judgment of heaven. That earned him the immediate enmity of several fiancées, who proceeded to trounce the speaker into the ground. This of course encouraged the other suitors for those same fiancées to shout for joy and begin their own pursuit. Needless to say, those women weren't happy. Everything quickly devolved into a general melee with everyone out for themselves. No one could reign in control and soon the group made its way down the street and out of sight.

The eldest Tendo watched with tears in her eyes as she walked to the spot where she had last seen Ranma. Kneeling down, she ran her fingers over the smooth lettering, the words repeated over and over in different languages. What did it mean though?

"It means your wish was granted, Kasumi Tendo." The voice spoke from nowhere and everywhere at once and the young woman suddenly felt a peaceful presence behind her. Slowly standing from the plaque, she turned to find a gorgeous woman standing about a foot off the ground, her elaborate dress billowing without the presence of the wind.

"Do not be afraid. My name is Belldandy. I am a Goddess and granter of wishes. Your wish, of all those offered concerning Ranma Saotome, was the one finally granted completion. You see, nearly everyone Ranma has met has made a wish in one form or another. Out of all those wishes, only yours was made with no thought for yourself, a completely selfless wish that had only Ranma's welfare in mind with no hidden agenda. Even though your heart cried out to make another wish, you went for his happiness first."

Kasumi blushed, for she knew of the wish that Belldandy spoke. Instead, she gathered her wits and asked what had happened to her dear friend. The Goddess smiled. "He has been sent to another world. You see, one thing about Ranma is that he lives for combat, to be challenged and overcome that challenge. He has been given a world where he will be allowed to grow and overcome. And a world where he is badly needed. It will not be easy and he may very well die there, but it is where he needs to be and gets him away from these people here."

"But what about all of us here? Will he forget about us?" The tears that Kasumi just barely kept from her voice she was unable to keep from her cheeks.

That same gentle smile adorned Belldandy's lips. "Ranma will never forget those he cares about. Never fear for that. If he truly desires it, he will find a way back to you. Or maybe, if there are those that truly desire it, they will find a way to him." That last part was said with a wink that was gone almost before Kasumi could tell it was there.

"Do not worry too much about the future, Ms. Tendo. Nothing is ever set in stone. Instead, we must each make what we can with what we are given and forge on with our hopes and dreams in mind. If you want something enough and work hard enough, it will happen. You'll see. For now that, I must be going. Father's work is never done." With a flash of light, Belldandy seemed to disappear into the side view mirror of a nearby car, leaving Kasumi alone with her thoughts.

So many dreams she has pushed aside for her family and then when she had been given a chance to change from the everyday grind, she had pushed it away out of fear. Today was the second time that Kasumi had ever regretted that decision and she knew that she could no longer stand idly by while the world passed on. Starting right now, she would prepare for her future, take hold of her chances, and forge a brighter hope. And maybe, that future would include a certain pig tailed martial artist. For some reason though, she kept seeing Ranma with a pony tail.

Somewhere in heaven, a silver haired goddess giggled to herself and sighed contently.

* * *

Nic Becosea slumped against the inner wall of the estate, cursing under his breath as he struggled with the crossbow bolt embedded in his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he gripped the bolt and pulled hard, freeing the shaft from his flesh and freeing an even more colorful curse from his lips. Had he been standing, the man would have been a good few inches over six feet tall, his light brown hair kept short. Pale blue eyes, like a clear summer sky, glared at the person next to him. Standing beside Nic with a grin on his lips was his best friend, the wandering barbarian plainsman, Matthew. At least, that's the name he had given Becosea. The young noble had no idea of the warrior's real name and had gotten over not knowing years ago. Instead, he just held up his hand to the man. 

"Help me up you smug bastard. So you were right and I was the first one shot." Nic tried to glare a hole through his friend who just laughed as he tilted his head back slightly to avoid another crossbow bolt flashing through the air. The barbarian stood just over six feet tall with short dark hair and deep brown eyes that shimmered with amusement and the lust for battle that seemed a constant in the large man. His skin was lightly tanned and his clothes were leather that seemed molded to his body like a second skin. Each movement of his body was an economy of motion, a fluid flow from stance to stance. Reaching out, he took the hand of the taller man in his and hauled him back to a standing position, then hauled him even further from the wall as another crossbow bolt flashed by.

"You're the one who thought to play hero up here on the battlements instead of waiting with the rest of the estate troops in the courtyard." Still chuckling, he turned to bat a bolt out of the air, glancing over the edge to watch the milling forced arrayed against the castle. There were over fifty soldiers outside, mostly light infantry, though a full dozen seemed to be carrying crossbows. No real archers in the group which meant it was more of a scout force than anything else. Shrugging, he leaned over and hefted his axe from where it lay against the wall and started down the stairs, heading for the assembled warriors.

Nic watched his friend for a moment and shook his head in wonder. As the second son of a border noble, Nic's responsibilities extended to caring for the estate caravans that routinely ran north into the neighboring country of Kazon. There had been occasional raids on the wagons which was why he had been taught combat from a young age. His elder brother was the bureaucrat though, overseeing the affairs of the estate with their father. Still, he'd never expected an actual invasion to come. Sure, there had been tensions between the two groups but nothing like open warfare.

When Nic finally arrived at the courtyard, it was to see his younger brother strapping on armor and joining the soldiers. He could have been the spitting image of his older brother except that he kept his hair longer, tied back by a leather thong into a ponytail that dangled between his shoulder blades. Nathan had no responsibilities in relations to the estate, living the carefree life of someone who was well to do and had nothing to really spend his time or money on. As a result, he spent his time with the estate retainers, learning the ways of combat. Surprisingly, he was one of the top ranked fighters among the men at arms, with only the resident blade master and the captain being able to best him in combat. Well, them and Matthew, though the barbarian routinely beat every one of the retainers just for fun, usually more than one at a time.

Rubbing his injured shoulder, Nic joined the group of men gathered in the courtyard, bringing the total to twenty-two armed combatants, less than half the size of the attacking force. It was a grim prospect. Most of the men on retainer were seasoned warriors, having seen many border skirmishes. They knew the results should they fail to defend the estate. Women left to the tender mercies of brutish soldiers. Children were to be either taken as slaves or killed outright if they weren't subjected to the same treatment as the women.

The blade master stood in the center of the group, the hilt of his great sword jutting over his shoulder, a broad sword belted at his waist. The tall man was grizzled and weathered, having seen more summers than both Becosea brothers together. Regardless of his age, he had earned the respect of every man in the estate with his combat prowess and his ability to lead. Once again, he was being called to defend the estate that he had learned to call home for over two decades. Gazing around at the assembled men with intense grey eyes, he nodded grimly.

"This is not going to be an easy battle, lads. Many of us shall be giving our lives to ensure the safety of those we love and care for. Unless we can cut a path through all those men lingering outside our gates and can keep them away from our courier, we will never be able to warn the kingdom of what is coming. Without that knowledge, the entire land will be overrun in blood and tears."

He paused a moment to allow his words to sink in, strengthening the resolve of each man present. It was a harsh dose of reality but without it, they had no chance of surviving the onslaught. "I've fought with each and every single one of you and I know your abilities. I know that we will win this day. We will send each and every one of those bastards to meet the Mother's dark embrace."

A cheer arose from the assembled warriors and Nic felt his hopes rising.

The gates to the estate slowly creaked open and the men milling without it gripped their weapons in anticipation. Just as they were about to dash through the opening, they were greeted by a hail of steel bolts flashing through the air, catching many of them unaware. One crossbow bolt impacted against an armored soldier and sent him flying through the air as if he had been hit with a ballista instead of a crossbow. The shock was enough for to keep the men in their places instead of charging. Their reward for their hesitance was to see the assembled defenders rush out from the gate with weapons drawn. Some of the attacking soldiers managed to snap out of their surprise and snapped off a few crossbow shots of their own. A few of the defenders went down in a spray of blood but the rest continued onwards, crashing into the attackers just as the gates seemed to crash shut behind them.

Nic ducked a sword slash and responded with a vicious backhand slash that took his attacker across the face, opening up the man's cheek in a bloody streak. He felt someone at his back and knew it was his brother, the two watching over each other since the first hazy moment of fighting. Dead man lay everywhere, friend and foe alike and Nic could feel the burning in his lungs from the strain, the sword growing heavier with each swing. How long until he wouldn't be able to lift the sword to block a swing that would kill him? That moment seemed to arrive all too soon as a second man joined the attack against him, slashing a stinging wound against his shoulder. The attacking soldier reared back, arm raised to deliver the finishing blow. The arm dropped, straight to the ground, severed at the elbow by an axe blow from behind. A hard shoulder from the same rescuer sent the soldier crashing into his comrade and Nic looked up to see the smug smirk of his barbarian friend. Silently groaning to himself, he took the moment to catch his breath, knowing that if he survived the fight, he'd be hearing about this save for days.

Nathan grinned as he flowed through the fighters, heedless of the plight of his fellows other than his brother. Instead, he enjoyed the thrill of combat, the freedom of being one with his blade. The short sword flashed past defending blades to slash across ribs, over arms, through armor, each slash drawing blood, hisses and cries of pain. He was one with the rhythm of the battle, flowing between the notes of combat that echoed with the beating of his heart. No man in this fight was his equal and he carved a path from one side of the battle to the other, with his brother at his back and a raging barbarian roaming along beside them.

All too soon it seemed that the clash of steel on steel fell to silence disturbed only by the sounds of the wounded and dying. The grim-faced defenders were few in number, half the number that had rallied to the estate's defense. That there were that many survivors was in itself a miracle and a testament to how determined the men were to defend their homes. After dispatching the wounded among the besiegers, the remaining men gathered their dead and trudged back towards the gates of the estate that were slowly creaking open.

A piercing scream rose into the air and searing pain erupted along Nic's back as he was knocked forward, dropping the man he had been carrying. Flames licked over his clothes as he rolled in the dirt, trying to put out the flames. All around him, the other defenders were doing the same, those that could still move. One smoldering corpse bore silent witness to the effectiveness of the attack. Finally managing to stifle the flames, Nic turned to find the source of the attack.

Just cresting the rise was a fresh group of fifty men, with at least a full hand of them mages, by the looks of the bright red robes that adorned their bodies. The creak and strain of wheels and wagons heralded the arrival of siege weaponry to actually knock down the gates.

Barely able to stand, let alone wield his sword, the middle Becosea son looked on with grim determination, ready to give his life to make sure no one reached his home to ravage those he cared about. Sheathing his sword, he reached to his belt to wrap his hand around the familiar barrel of his crossbow. Slowly lifting it, he placed a steel bolt into the groove and silently called forth magic to imbue the bolt with a little extra gift for this attack. Taking aim, he let loose a bolt. The steel shot streaked through the air, red and angry and straight for the lumbering construct of wood that was destined to pound through the gates of the estate. Instead, said construct burst into flames.

Smiling in grim satisfaction, Nic let his arm fall back to his side. He'd done all he could and now just needed to wait for the blow that would end it all. Standing beside him, Nathan looked on with an eager intensity in his eyes, as if welcoming the challenge. Matthew merely grunted approval at the display of pyrotechnics, his axe gripped firmly in his strong hands.

Suddenly, a shaft of blue light pierced down from the heavens, striking the ground directly between the two groups, pulling up short the initial charge of the second army wave. All present had to turn away lest they be blinding by the brilliant pillar of light that bound the heavens and earth together for one intense moment. When finally the light faded enough for everyone to see, there was a single young man standing in the middle of a burned circle on the ground. The young man stood well shy of six feet tall, closer to five and a half. His raven black hair was tied back in a pigtail and deep blue eyes gazed from a face filled with many emotions, too many to read. Dressed in a red shirt and black pants, he was unlike anything or anyone that Nic had ever seen. The newcomer blinked in surprise at his surroundings before noticing the two groups. There wasn't much time for consideration as a shout from the group of attackers urged the men back into action, the soldiers charging the lone man.

Nic offered several silent prayers for the soul of the unarmed man who had been unwittingly thrust into the middle of a fight that was not his own. Those prayers sputtered to a quick agonizing death as he watched the man sidestep a blow and respond with a vicious roundhouse that knocked the heavily armored man a dozen feet away into more of the attackers, knocking them all down. Nic's eyes widened as he saw what could not have been possible for anyone save his barbarian friend.

The young man weaved through the blows, fighting off half a dozen men at a time while some sought to pass by and others joined the fight against the young warrior. No matter what they could do though, not one blow landed upon him. He was like quicksilver, flowing through the movements with a fluid grace that was as beautiful as it was brutal. Bodies flew away from his blows, each attack taking out two or more men. There was no more time for consideration as Nic found himself under assault.

Stumbling backwards, Nic tried to clear his sword from the scabbard only to stumble over a body in his exhaustion. Instead of the pain of a sword thrust through his belly, he found the attack blocked by his brother who smiled at him before jumping into the fray. Matthew looked down at his fallen friend and shook his head in amusement before snapping his arm back to elbow an attacker then brought his axe around in a calm beheading. Nic was then left alone to watch the combat as best he could, along with the few other men who couldn't join the fight. Instead, only three men faced the onslaught. Three men, one of who didn't even belong to the estate, were all that stood between carnage and carnal savagery.

Standing back from the battle, the five mages watched with a mixture of awe and anger at the one man who seemed unbeatable. Gathering together, they conjured the workings of a spell, their chanting rising into the air, bending the elements to their combined will. A large humanoid shape began to take form as the air seemed to shimmer and warp, tendrils of heat bending together in answer to the will of the mages. Moment by moment the creature grew until the large fire elemental finally began to move on its own, turning to follow the silent commands of its masters, stepping with a burning gait toward the pigtailed warrior.

Soldiers scattered, those still left conscious, running back towards the dubious protection of the mages, leaving the pigtailed warrior to watch them running, confusion evident in the depths of his sapphire gaze. Then he noticed the large being of fire, all of twelve feet tall, shambling towards him. A smirk graced his lips as he seemed to skip forward, a deceptively slow dance that circled the beast, weaving between the clumsy swings of the lumbering monster. All other combat ceased as those few soldiers who hadn't retreated to the protection of the mages turned to watch the strange non-fight. Even Matthew and Nathan paused from killing their opponents to gaze in wonder at the man standing up to the monstrosity of magic.

Continually backing away from the fiery beast, the warrior spun and weaved around every attack, seemingly taunting the monster, all the while spiraling around it in an ever tightening circle. Suddenly, a loud shout rang out from the warrior as he thrust his fist into the air. Wind whipped around as a large tornado formed around him, sucking the fire elemental into the air and ripping it to shreds, the fire dispersing to the winds. Those watching could only stare in shock. A warrior mage! The attacking mages worked frantically to call up more spells even as the rest of their soldiers tried to huddle around the even more dubious safety their own mages might offer.

Lightning bolts, fireballs, hail, and other forms of mystic projectiles began to rain down around the warrior, who spun through the onslaught with an almost casual ease, though occasionally he would kick or punch a block of ice towards the assembled attackers, catching soldiers glancing blows that knocked them around, if not knocking them out. After a few moments of this, more screams were heard from the attackers as Matthew and Nathan crashed through their meager ranks, blades flashing in sprays of blood.

The mages turned their focus inwards, frustration mounting at not being able to hit the wiry warrior. Instead, they concentrated their attacks on the two fighters, catching Nathan off guard with several fireblasts to his side as he was engaged with two swordsmen at once. He crumpled to the ground, his clothes smoldering. Matthew arrived a moment before any blows could land against the prone fighter, scooping up the fallen Becosea and carrying him back towards the estate, soldiers hot on his trail, at least until the mysterious warrior stepped in and engaged the remaining soldiers once again.

Standing with the last remaining defenders, Nic held his breathe in anticipation, not daring to speak or breath as he waited for his friend to bring his brother back from the fight. Ground eating strides carried the barbarian swiftly across the field of battle, past crumbled corpses, some still burning from the initial spell cast by the mages. Chest heaving with exertion, Matthew slowed down from his frantic run long enough to deposit the youngest Becosea to his elder, then sprang back towards the battle, great axe gleaming blood red in the light of the fires that still raged throughout the area.

Nic was panicked, unsure what to do as he quickly knelt at his brother's side, trying to tear off the charred leather and metal that had once been armor. Only the wheezing breathing of his brother assured the middle Becosea that Nathan was still alive. Suddenly he was shouldered aside, the grim form of the estate blade master taking his place beside his brother. Skilled hands searched for injuries, though the set of the old man's mouth did little to reassure Nic. With nothing to do other than worry about his brother, Nic had no choice but to return his attention to the fight, worry for his friend replacing worry for his brother. Shocked eyes met the sight of a devastated army.

The red robed forms of the mages lay strewn about the landscape, many missing limbs though it was hard to tell among the carnage. Even as Nic watched, Matthew seemed to reach out with that wicked axe and remove a man from his arm at the shoulder, blood spraying in every direction. A loud scream accompanied the form of another soldier flying through the air, his armor dented. The strange warrior stood amidst the devastation, pigtail flowing freely in the breeze. Those piercing blue eyes considered the barbarian for a moment before nodding slightly. There was a moment of fierce tension before Matthew nodded in return, both warriors relaxing from their combat stances. If a bow string could be said to relax. Neither warrior seemed ready to completely let down their guard and for once, Nic agreed with his friend. These were strange times and one had to be careful, especially with such as these scouting forces roaming around.

Standing amidst the broken remains of a once intimidating army, Matthew the barbarian tried to calm the call for blood that sang within his veins. Drenched in the blood of his foes, leather armor gleaming red in the fading light of day, he longed to test his abilities against this strange young man who had appeared from the heavens to save them all from a most dire fate. It was the battle lust, a state that threatened his entire people, always lingering along the edge of their senses waiting to take hold of their minds. There were some that gave into that seductive song, unleashing death and destruction. Those who had truly mastered the rage were able to channel it into a combat sense that transcended normal abilities. Yet always it was hard to come back from the edge, to pull back from the desire to fight, to compete, to dominate, especially against someone like the mysterious warrior.

After cleaning his axe on a nearby corpse and then slowly sheathing it at his waist, Matthew showed his open hands to the stranger, though the blood drenching his arms did little to dismiss the grim vision of death. "My thanks for the timely intervention, warrior. I bid you greetings on behalf of my comrades." The barbarian's rich baritone rang through the air, easily cutting through the sounds of the wounded and dying. The mysterious warrior just cocked his head to the side, shrugging his shoulders and shaking his head, responding with a string of words that Matthew couldn't begin to understand. Though the words flowed off the stranger's tongue, none of them were familiar to the barbarian. Shrugging his own broad shoulders, Matthew beckoned towards the young man before turning to head towards the waiting survivors.

There was nary a whisper to betray the movements of the foreign warrior and Matthew felt his respect for the stranger raise another notch. Only the feeling of being followed allowed the barbarian to know that the young man was still behind him. It didn't take them long to cross the grounds to the survivors, the gates of the estate even now slowly swinging open, women and children pouring forth to help those who could still be saved and to dispatch those among the wounded too far gone to survive. Matthew barely refrained from shaking his head at the display. No matter how many times he'd seen the cold efficiency presented by these people, it never failed to amaze him with their pragmatism.

Nic had stopped watching the warriors the moment he had gotten over his shock, instead turning his attention to his wounded brother, barely refraining from pushing aside the arms master to attend to his family. Only the knowledge that his brother was in far better hands kept him from kneeling in the dirt and seizing Nathan in an encompassing hug. Flicking his gaze towards the gates, he saw the family healer shambling as fast as he could burdened with the instruments of his trade, two attendants trailing behind him heavy laden with bandages and healing balms. Forcing himself to stand and back away, Nic ran his fingers through his hair, trying to find some center of calm amidst the madness of post combat survival. His muscles burned with exhaustion and his entire body ached. His shoulder throbbed loud and relentless, a pounding pain that spiked with each movement of the joint. All those feelings he forced aside to focus on his concern for his brother.

Matthew slowed to a stop beside his friend, turning his gaze towards the youngest Becosea, for once allowing the concern he felt within to be shown upon his face. During combat there was no time for concern other than to make sure that your allies survived to help you fight. Once they were out of the fight they had to be forgotten until you had time to worry, time to heal. Those were the codes he had been raised on and what he based his life around. Worry about the living while they live, worry about yourself before others or you won't be around to help others. The strong survive to protect those who aren't as strong. Watching the healer trying to save Nathan's life wasn't something that he relished but he knew it was what gave strength to his friend.

Risking a glance at their strange savior, Nic blinked in surprise at the intensity of focus so openly displayed upon the stranger's face. It was as if the man was looking beyond the surface to the world that lay beneath, something Nic had only heard about from the older campaigners among the retainers. What type of man was this that had stumbled into their lives?

Ranma watched the flow of ki surge and ebb within the young man, terrible burns visible through the rents in the armor along his side. The flesh beneath was seared beyond repair and would need to be dressed and tended every day for a long time before they had hope to heal. If the boy could even heal. Each wave of ki that surged around the boy was weaker than the one before, although the efforts of the surgeon seemed to be helping strengthen the young man. It wouldn't be enough though and Ranma had to fight to keep from shaking his head in sadness. Turning to those around him, he wondered again just where the chaos in his life had taken him.

Signing in frustration, the family healer worked fast to cut the leather from Nathan's body, the armor almost melted into the wounds. Mystic fire was always a tricky beast to tame, the wounds contorting and charring under the onslaught of heat. Even tempered steel failed the fight against such a monster. Little beyond magic healing would be able to save the boy, but perhaps, just perhaps, they would be able to prolong his life long enough for a true mystic healer to be fetched from the city or capital. The courier heading to the city would know to fetch a true healer and with luck, the young master could be saved.

A hacking cough drew the attention of everyone around as Nathan struggled to consciousness, fighting the waves of agony that swept over him. His eyes slowly slid open as he searched the small crowd, his eyes alighting on his brother. A smile slowly graced his lips as he lifted one blackened hand, beckoning his brother over.

Nic responded with a small smile of his own as he took the healer's place beside his brother, leaning down to hear what was whispering past Nathan's lips. Nic tried to jerk back as Nathan suddenly reached up and grabbed his collar, dragging the older brother within reach, parched lips nearly brushing his ear. "You need to be strong brother. I won't be here to watch your back for awhile…" The words were soft, barely audible over the sounds of the dying, but they filled Nic's entire world, his eyes widening as the possible implications jumped through his mind.

A soft chuckle brought him back to the present as his brother continued speaking. "Don't worry, I don't plan on dying on you. I think I'm going to take a break and let you do all the work for once." Chuckling slightly once again, Nathan finally released his grip on his older brother, sinking back to the ground and into unconsciousness.

Nic looked down at his brother and didn't know if he was supposed to frown or smile at the impertinent youth. He wouldn't change his brother for anything though and decided to smile, accepting his brother's words for what they were meant to be. Slowly rising to his feet, he turned his gaze to his friend, searching the barbarian's eyes for some sign of the future, trying to draw wisdom from the experience of someone older and supposedly wiser. What he found instead was a slow shake of the head. Matthew didn't have any answers either.

Turning away from his friend, Nic considered their rescuer, trying to get a better look at him now that the threat of combat no longer loomed. At first glance there was little in the way of physical appearance that made the man stand out. Until you looked beneath the casual observation and watched him with a combatant's eye. The man was a warrior true and through, constantly scanning the area as if searching for the next attack. Each movement was a smooth economy of motion, nothing wasted, all energy conserved until it was needed. Just as Nic was about to speak, he caught the slight shake of Matthew's head. Curious as to what he meant, Nic made his way to the barbarian's side, walking together towards the gates to the estate.

"Our friend is not of this land or any of those nearby." Matthew always was one to get directly to the point. "I cannot place his language or his accent though it is possible he is from the eastern or southern continent. I feel that I should know him though. His fighting spirit…" The large man trailed off as his gaze was pulled back towards the pigtailed warrior, who remained oblivious to the scrutiny. Shaking his head in frustration, Matthew turned back to his friend. "I don't know what to make of him though. He saved our lives, all of our lives and yet, I cannot thank him. There is something about him that sings to my blood, Nic, almost a pull that tugs at my heart. I cannot put it into words for you, one who is only partly a warrior. Your brother would know of what I speak."

Another frustrated shrug of those broad shoulders were the end of Matthew's speech, leaving the middle Becosea with more questions than answers. So. A foreigner who neither spoke nor understood their language. Maybe one of the mages from the capital would be able to divine something but those questions would have to wait. There were more important things to worry about.

Ranma's hands tightened into fists as he watched the young man struggle for life. From the looks of the lad, he couldn't have been any older than Ranma, though the young man topped Ranma's diminutive form by quite a bit, a sore point that Ranma would forever blame his father. Pushing away those thoughts, he focused on the sight beyond sight, reaching beneath the surface to see the flow of life struggling through the young man. There was definite strength there, a will to life that fought against the damage to his body. But there wasn't enough energy to sustain that will and it was slowly losing the battle. Sighing in frustration, Ranma made up his mind. There was nothing else he could do.

Striding quickly across the short distance, Ranma knelt beside the healer, ignoring the worried looks around him as his hands took on a soft blue glow, energy trailing from his fingers to envelope the prone form. Ranma eyes slipped closed as he lost himself in the effort of offering his own strength to help support the wounded boy. The effort hurt, as if his own life was being drawn away, but Ranma didn't know any other method of transferring the energy.

Nic barely suppressed the gasp of shock and started heading towards his brother when he felt Matthew's hand on his shoulder. Growling he whirled to confront his friend, only to stop short at the shake of the barbarian's head. "What is he doing to my brother?"

"Saving his life."

Simple words delivered in that level voice, yet they carried with them a weight all their own. Nic whipped his head back to the scene playing out before him and wondered to all the Gods and Goddesses in the Heavens just what type of stranger had been brought to them.

The glow surrounding Ranma's hands flowed up his arms until his entire body was surrounded by the blue corona. He could feel his life flowing from him, entering the boy almost like an IV of life. There was another sense of being drained, somewhere in the back of his mind, a feeling Ranma couldn't identify. There was no pain associated with the other type of drain but that did little to comfort him. Unknown things tended to bite him in the ass at one point or another.

More people continued to arrive from the estate, watching the scene playing out before them. All around them the dead and dying lay strewn about the battle field, yet like a bright beacon amidst the sadness, this young man stood out, giving his all for a people he had no obligation to. Many gasped as the life seemed to surge brighter, a blinding pillar of light slamming down from the heavens, hiding the two men from view.

When everyone could see again, they found the pigtailed warrior slumped over face down on the ground, the healer shaking his head as if to rid it of the cobwebs, and a shallowly breathing Nathan struggling to sit up, many of the burns in his body closed up, no longer the blackened charred messes they were a moment before. Not that he was healed. The damage was still extensive, but there was no longer the sense of urgency. It was a true miracle.

Nic broke loose from his friend's grip and rushed to kneel beside his brother, struggling not to throw his arms around the boy. Instead he settled for examining him from head to foot, grimacing over the wounds, yet amazed at the recovery. No longer did the youngest brother seem on the gateway to the other world. Nathan looked like he was as good as a week in bed would have been, though he remained flushed and burned. "Brother?"

Nathan slowly opened his eyes, groaning in surprising pain. Surprising because he expected to be dead after the searing pain had lancing into his back from the mages. Most people don't surprise mage fire. "Nic?" Worried eyes searched for the elder brother, coming to rest on the equally worried eyes gazing back at him. He started to chuckle then stopped as a cough wracked his body. "By all the gods that hurts."

Unable to help himself, Nic laughed, earning strange looks from those around him. He didn't care. His brother was fine if his sense of humor was still intact. Nic grinned at the wounded brother. "That's what you get for almost dying on me. If you weren't such an invalid right now I'd rap you a good one myself for the stunts you pulled." The sparkle in his eyes robbed his words of any sting they might have possessed.

Nathan just grinned back, finally able to sit up again. "Oh? Keep that in mind the next time I beat you around the practice yard. I feel generous though. I'll give you the time if takes me to get over this little incident to get some practice in so you can be a decent challenge for me." Motion out of the corner of his eyes caught his attention and he noticed the stranger from before slowly fighting to sit up.

"My thanks for the timely rescue, stranger, and for what you've done for me here. I could feel your presence and feel it still. With all that I am I thank you again."

Ranma shook his head gently then waved away the thanks. "Don't worry about it. Just doing my duty as a martial artist."

All motion among the retainers and the surviving combatants stopped as Ranma slowly climbed to his feet. The pigtailed warrior, oblivious of the impact those few words had, just stretched, trying to work out the kinks from healing the boy. Healing was never easy and he'd yet to find a way to do it without the pain that came with having your ki drained away. It was something like the opposite of Hinako's draining technique, though no less draining to the one using it.

Matthew looked like he'd been smacked in the head with a war mace, his eyes wide and eyebrows threatening to climb into his hair. "I thought you didn't speak our language?"

Looking around at the confused gathering, Ranma finally caught onto the meaning of the question. "Um, I don't?" He rubbed the back of his neck in embarrassment, unsure of how to explain how he knew the language. It wasn't that he really knew the language, just that he seemed to understand the meaning behind the words and when he spoke them, knew how to shape them into the strange language spoken by the boy he'd healed.

Sudden understanding flashed through him as Ranma glanced down at the boy. "It was you! Somehow when I shared my ki with you there was a feedback. Knocked me unconscious for a moment. What happened? Was there something you did?"

The rapid fire questions only confused everyone as the accent became more pronounced, blurring the words together. Nathan, Nic, Matthew and the healer all just shook their heads in the confusion, though the barbarian was the first to act. "Woah there stranger. What did you mean by sharing your… what did you call it? Ki?"

Pursing his lips in thought, Ranma tried to find the words, struggling to use the new language that seemed stuffed into his mind. "I shared my life energy with him." Each word would carefully spoken, over enunciated yet clearly stated. "I tried to use it to strengthen his life energy to where he would heal on his own. I didn't expect that type of reaction, but I've also never tried healing anyone who was that hurt either." All this thinking was hurting Ranma's head. It was as if the words were being used through a filter that wasn't quite his own, yet was still his own. Something borrowed from the young man sitting near him.

"A life link." The words came from the arms master, the grizzled figure making his way over. "I'd heard about them during my travels and campaigns but I heard that only mage healers could perform them. Though I'd never heard that they could teach a man another's skills." The man turned his level gaze towards Ranma, who blushed slightly under the scrutiny, wondering just what it was that was so important to these people about what he'd done.

Matthew grinned at the young man. "Well, if you tried to keep Nathan alive you're alright in my book. My name is Matthew, a traveler from the barren plans of northern Kazon. I bid you welcome and share my thanks for your part in the battle to save this estate, the home of my friends and those I sometimes call family." He offered his hand and arm to the warrior.

Ranma looked at the warrior in confusion for a moment before smiling, reaching out and clasping the man around the forearm, a sign of trust among combatants. It signified lowering your defenses. Matthew's grip was strong, just enough to show confidence but without the arrogance of trying to test one's strength against another. A true show of friendship and camaraderie. "I'm Ranma Saotome. I'm from Nerima."

The barbarian cocked his head to the side, searching his memories. "Nerima you say? Can't say that I recall having heard of it. What Kingdom does it belong to?"

Ranma blinked in response. Kingdom? "Um, it's part of Japan, a little part of Tokyo City. You've never heard of it?"

The hairs on the back of Matthew's neck threatened to rise at the eerie answers. Somehow he knew this was the case but held out hope for the boy. Strangers from another world generally weren't trusted, though the Becosea family seemed a little more tolerant of the strange and bizarre. "Well Ranma, seems like you're a long way from home. Come inside, we've warm food and hospitality for the man who helped us survive this day. Bad times are coming, if these men are any indication."

At the mention of food Ranma's stomach took the opportunity to make itself heard, earning a rather pronounced blush for the pigtailed martial artist. Grinning sheepishly, he made his way inside behind the barbarian.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's Note:

There is a discontinuity between the world from which Ranma came and the one in which he now resides. Those back in Nerima live at a different pace, where a day may be equal to a day or a month. At some points the time between them synchronize, yet for the most part they are out of sync. The Nerima Wrecking Crew will have to come to terms with Ranma being gone.

* * *

Ranma: Kingdoms Invasion

By Sargon Dorsai

To Seek That Which is Lost

Sunlight barely kissed the skyline of Nerima, Japan, scattering the last of the fog lingering from the early autumn morning. Ranma had only been gone for a single day yet it seemed that the true reality of the situation had yet to hit those who still remained. The suitors for the women who had chased after Ranma had celebrated long into the night, once they'd recovered from the beating those same women had delivered upon them.

Scattered throughout the district, the various women who had pursued the pigtailed warrior lay in bed, their dreams the results of a wide range of emotions. For some it was a denial of the possibility that the man they wanted was lost to them. For others it was a deeper denial of reality, instead seeing themselves living happily ever after when Ranma returned to their arms, forsaking all others. Yet another dreamed of the justice she would administer when the pervert returned from spending time with those hussies (and yes, she was one of those in denial of reality).

Of all the people involved in the life of the disappeared, only one person was awake. Before even the sun had broken the horizon, Kasumi Tendo had awoken from her light slumber, yawning as she rubbed the remnants of the sleep from her eyes. Those eyes were red from the tears she'd shed the night before, recalling how the only friend she had in the world had been taken from her. As the last tendrils of sleep left her mind, she recalled the promise of the Goddess Belldandy, saying that it was possible for those who tried, to reach Ranma.

Strengthening her resolve, Kasumi flowed out of bed, quickly preparing herself for the day. After attending to her own personal hygiene, she made her way down to the kitchen, sighing softly to herself as she realized that there was no chance for the pigtailed boy to be there to help her this morning. Gathering the supplies for the meal, she mechanically went about preparing the meal. She was only a few minutes into her preparations when she glanced out the window at the empty backyard. No morning spar or quiet katas disturbed the silence of the garden and only the passing chill breeze rustled the grass.

The entire house seemed empty without Ranma's presence. He made himself felt throughout every facet of life, bringing with him a sense of energy that strengthened everyone around him. She knew that the others in the house had come to rely upon him, even if they wouldn't admit to the fact. Shaking her head sadly, she continued preparing a simple breakfast, not bothering to fix the generous portions that she had become used to. With no Ranma around, there was no one around who needed and deserved that much food. Genma certainly wouldn't be allowed that much.

With the meal preparations complete, Kasumi's gaze once again returned to the yard and from there travelled to the equally empty dojo. A wistful smile appeared on her lips and she made her way from the kitchen to stand at the door of the dojo. Closing her eyes, she could see Ranma gliding across the polished wood floors, his movements graceful, power and strength held carefully in check. Slipping silently to the center to the room, she allowed herself to feel the ambient energy that flowed throughout the dojo. It was almost as if Ranma's presence could still be felt within the room, his only true home.

Drawing upon the memories of her long lost childhood as well as her own observations of Ranma's morning workouts, Kasumi began a simple beginners kata. The movements were awkward, halting as she tried to remember, tried to piece things together. She refused to become frustrated, instead using each mistake to make herself better. Maybe, just maybe, if she became good enough, she could find a way. She could realize the promise given to her by Belldandy.

She would find Ranma.

* * *

The sun had long since set behind the mountains, allowing the stars to shine within the velvet sky. Ranma tilted his head back, searching among those glittering orbs for some semblance of understanding. None was forthcoming. He didn't see any constellations he recognized, only finding another confirmation of cold reality. He wasn't home anymore. His world was gone and in its place was this strange land and strange people.

Turning back towards the inner courtyard, Ranma could just make out the sounds of the revelry still going on within the main hall, the lights from the partially opened door spilling into the chilled night, a bright slash against the darkness, though the lights flickered from moment to moment. Candle light was a far cry from the light bulbs of home, though not all that unfamiliar to one who had been on the road for most of his life.

Home. It was a concept that Ranma had never thought he'd come to understand, yet the Tendo Dojo had been the only constant in his otherwise chaotic world. Even the fiancées and rivals fluctuated, constant as their bickering was. Their attentions would ebb and flow like the crashing tides of the ocean, yet always the Dojo was there waiting for his return, offering a shelter from the storm, at least for the moments he could get away, to sleep, to dream, to train, to learn, to grow. So many things he had planned.

Not all the memories were pleasant. Looking back on his life, Ranma could finally admit that most of his experiences had been unpleasant, punctuated at times by those tiny rays of sunshine that break from amidst the clouds surrounding his life. A cold wind stirred along the parapet, tickling the back of Ranma's neck as it teased his pigtail. Shaking away the reminiscing, the warrior lightly hopped down from the wall, a short twenty foot drop to the cobblestone courtyard beneath. His head immediately snapped to the side as a shadow detached itself from the wall.

Making his way into the light, the large barbarian from earlier kept his hands in front of him, a show of peace among those raised for war. Matthew had watched the man before him during the celebration, noting each grimace of discomfort. They were thoughts echoed within the bigger man, even if he never let those emotions show on the outside. He gave voice to those thoughts, wanting to know who else had lived a life of such constant warfare that to endure such frivolous behavior had been almost painful.

Ranma reached up and scratched the back of his neck, trying to find the words to express his feelings. While never one for flowery language, he had been learning to better speak his mind rather than inserting his entire foot into his mouth by speaking the first words that came to mind, or sometimes beating his mind to the punch. "It's not that I'm unused to celebrations. Back home we had some big parties and I'll admit I enjoyed them. It's just.." He trailed off, tilting his head back to gaze upon the stars once again.

"It's just that it was another piece of evidence as to how far I am from the only place I've ever called home. Most of my life was spent traveling, moving from place to place, master to master, learning their techniques, working towards the goal of being the best. The customs, the food, even the way everyone is dressed. It's so different. I can't find anything to relate to them and they way that they look at me, like I'm some sort of hero." He trailed off again, unable and unwilling to continue that train of thought.

Matthew considered the young man before him, nodding slowly in agreement with most of the thoughts expressed by the boy. Being separated from your people had a way of unnerving a man. Yet there was an undercurrent of power that echoed from the boy no matter what the situation. "This is not your land or your people and you didn't do anything more than what you saw as your duty. Having someone reward you for that duty does not in any way lessen the importance of what you've done."

Ranma snapped his gaze back to the large warrior. How had he known what was going on in his head? "I don't know. All growing up I was told that it was my duty to help others. How can I accept this type of treatment for just doing my duty? I didn't do anything special. I tried explaining that to your friend and his family but they wouldn't listen. They just kept telling me how thankful they were. I still feel uncomfortably knowing they feel that way." His gaze drifted back to the light spilling from the distant doorway. The idea that people were happy because he'd defended them. It was a foreign concept to the pigtailed martial artist. Back home he always got yelled at for saving people, especially by Akane, who always proclaimed "I'm a martial artist too."

A deep sigh disturbed the otherwise still evening as Ranma tried to push away the strange feelings. Turning to regard his fellow warrior, he once again wondered what made a man like him possible? Did he have to go through the same training that Ranma himself had been put through? And if so, just how fragile was his hold on sanity?

The barbarian looked back at the confused young man, sensing the pain and confusion behind those bright blue eyes. There was a strength of purpose that was almost frightening in its intensity. A clear understanding of duty to those around him. And yet he seemed afraid of that duty. As if something in his limited understanding of their new world was holding him back from being able to enjoy the simple comforts of life.

The sound of giggles rising into the air broke both warriors away from their inner reflections. Matthew was the first to notice the two young women making their way across the courtyard, silhouetted by the light from the common room. At this distance he couldn't make out just which of the servant girls it could be but any of them would be a delightful treat for the young man. There was nothing like a night in a woman's embrace to forget about your woes and sorrows and with twice the attention it should be an enjoyable night indeed.

Lips twitching into a bright smile, Matthew turned to young man, a crude joke at the boy's expense at the tip of his tongue. The joke was forgotten as he noted the tension in the pigtailed warrior's face. Taking another look at Ranma, Matthew noted the tension seemed to engulf the boy's entire body. Now why would wenches cause such a reaction? Unless… now that was truly interesting!

A hearty laugh echoed across the courtyard as the girls neared, drawing everyone's attention to the broad shouldered barbarian. Ranma's jaw nearly dropped as he looked at the warrior. This was not a laughing matter. While there was no way that these girls were new fiancées, they were no doubt out here to pound him into the ground for some perceived insult. Most likely for walking out on them and not eating their cooking. Though looking back he remembered eating everything he'd been presented. As Ranma walked through his day, trying to identify the place where he'd managed to screw up, Matthew made his way to the boy's side.

"While you may not know the secret joy of being a man with a women, I think yonder wenches are more than happy to educate you in that regard." Matthew clapped a strong hand on the Ranma's shoulder, trying to get the tense teenager to relax. What he wasn't expecting was for Ranma to wince and fade away from the hand, trying to merge into the shadows. Matthew blinked in surprise as the boy seemed to disappear, his shock echoed by the cries echoing from the girls.

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to wait here for whatever they have planned for me. I just can't handle being hit right now. Tell them I'll face them tomorrow…" the voice trailed away, leaving behind three very confused people. Why would he think he would be hit? It's not as if any of the menfolk would begrudge the boy his fun. Matthew tried to reach out with his senses to find the boy, experiencing another shock when he couldn't locate Ranma. Turning to face the servant girls, he just sighed.

"Sorry girls, I'm not sure where the skittish boy managed to disappear to, but I don't think he'll be back anytime soon." He chuckled at the hurt pouts that blossomed on each girl's face. Smiling to them he stepped in close, wrapping an arm around each lush waist, drawing the two against his hard body. Leaning in, he whispered just how he would make it up to each of them, eliciting a set of giggles that trailed off into the night.

* * *

Panting from exhaustion, the runner from the Becosea estate pushed on, clearing the last rise before seeing the Mage Tower in the distance. It was fortunate that the estate maintained a way station close by and he had been able to requisition a horse. The mighty beast was as tired as his rider though both took what little comfort they could from the cool night air. Pushing on for the last bit of distance, the rider kept thoughts of warm food and a comfortable bed in his mind. His reward for doing his duty.

Nearly leaping from the back of his horse, he stumbled towards the Tower, banging on the door to try and capture someone's attention. The Mage Towers had been established hundreds of years ago to help facilitate communications between the far flung estates along the borders and throughout the Kingdom. A Mage Globe was stored at the base of the tower, a mystical construct that allowed the mages to communicate over long distances. A mage and a guardian were assigned to each tower to maintain the lines of communication.

After several more moments of pounding on the door an answer was finally forthcoming in the form of a large man pushing the door outwards, knocking over the already tired runner. Glaring down at the man on his rump, the large stranger regarded the man with barely concealed distain. "You'd best be having a good reason for rousting me from my bed, boy, or you'll be seeing more than what landed you on your backside." The voice was gruff, a professional soldier broking no excuses.

Scrambling to his feet, the runner just bobbed his head, shaking from both fear and exhaustion. "Begging your pardon sir, but I just came from the Becosea estate with news most dire. Kazon is on the move! They've already attacked in force against my master's home and were only just repelled, but more are surely on their way." Even the runner was amazed that he was able to get that out in so few breathes but the stunned look on the soldier's face seemed to add a little energy to the otherwise exhausted man.

Grumbling and cursing, the soldier opened the door further and motioned the other man inside, directing him to the mage who was just then rising from his bedding. There was an uneasy feeling from the man as he directed his gaze at the one who would dare intrude upon his well earned sleep. All thoughts of sleep were soon blasted from his mind as the runner's story was retold.

Allowing his own select curses to lick the air, the mage turned away and strode to center of the room and the glowing sphere that stood within. He had a call to make.

Outside the tower, a dark shadow detached from the side of the stonework, taking off through the air. Had anyone been able to see, they would have been shocked to see the evil grin that adorned the creatures far too human face.

* * *

Author's Notes:

I wanted to write a longer chapter but I find that if I add too much to this chapter, it pushes the story faster than I wanted to go. Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it. Let me know what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note:

I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to review my stories. I write for the enjoyment of myself and for all of you and hearing that you enjoy the story is what keeps me writing, even when I get frustrated. I truly value each and every single review I receive and take the time to personally answer every single one of them. Feel free to ask any questions you might have about the story or my writing style and I'll be more than happy to respond to them. Also, if anyone wants to start a discussion on the Forums, just let me know and I'll get it set up.

* * *

Ranma: Kingdoms Invasion

By Sargon Dorsai

Evolution of Threat

Sunlight glinted off the snow piled upon the rooftops of the Tendo Estate in Nerima, Japan, illuminating the blanket of white into a shimmer of almost magical brilliance. A halo of ice surrounded the rocks lining the koi pond and the fish themselves were resting lazily on the bottom of the pond, trying to eek out the new bits of warmth from the rising sun. There was little to disturb the quiet of the morning, except for the repeated sound of flesh impacting wood coming from the Dojo.

Clad in a gleaming white karate gi, Kasumi Tendo worked through the katas that she had thus far managed to master, her foot slamming down onto the floor of the dojo as she stomped at an invisible foe. Nearby was the shattered remnants of the target dummy that had thus far borne the brunt of her practice. Steam wreathed the swiftly flowing form of the eldest Tendo daughter as she swept from stance to stance, her body contorting around invisible attackers. It was as if there were several opponents engaged in combat simultaneously.

For several more moment Kasumi continued the frantic pace, building to the final flurry of blows that would have sent her opponents scattering had they been more than air and imagination. Arms still extended from the last attack, she stood there panting, trying to calm the beating of her heart and to collect her breath.

Turning to the corner of the dojo, Kasumi allowed a small smile to grace her lips. In a single frame by itself was a slightly faded picture. Dressed in his traditional Chinese silks was Ranma Saotome, standing tall and proud, invincible against the world. Standing back to back with him was the diminuitive form of his female half. The photo had been digitally edited, since there had only been one time in which Ranma's two halves had been separated. Kasumi had asked for that picture from her sister Nabiki, knowing that the girl kept a large file of photos on her computer.

At first Nabiki had been confused about why her older sister had wanted the picture, at least until she learned about Kasumi's early morning activities. It didn't take the middle Tendo long to figure out just what was on in her dear sister's mind and at first she wasn't sure how she felt about the interest that Kasumi was showing in the missing martial artist. That was until she really let herself think about what she knew about the real Ranma and the real Kasumi.

Looking back on their lives, it wasn't that hard to figure out what had happened and what was really going on in Kasumi's mind. Snippets of conversation half heard, the secret glances when they thought no one was watching. The almost hidden help provided while others were asleep. The extra portions of food. So many different signs and it took the colossal loss of the boy to finally put everything into perspective.

Those same thoughts ran through Nabiki's mind once again as the girl made her way to the dojo just in time to see Kasumi kneeling in front of Ranma's picture. Suppressing a sigh, she made sure she didn't interrupt the elder sister's time alone with the boy, even if the boy wasn't there. If anyone had deserved Ranma, deserved the dedication and attention, it was Kasumi. And of all the people still in Nerima, only Kasumi seemed to have made any changes in her life.

With the same critical mind that she had employed in business deals, Nabiki examined the changes that had come over her oldest sister. To most outward appearances, Kasumi was still the same cheerful loving housewife who had never been a wife that had always taken care of the family. It was only over the last few months that Kasumi had really begun changing in ways that should have been noticed by those on the outside. More and more of the chores were only barely getting done and many of those chores were being delegated to the members of the family.

Of course, no one realized that they were being put to work. Kasumi always had a good excuse for why she was asking for help. It's just that those excuses were coming more frequently. The change had been gradual and Nabiki doubted anyone noticed the escalation of events except for her. Nabiki was startled out of her thoughts by the sight of a slightly sweaty Kasumi walking up, toweling dry from her work out. There was a calm energy in that normally serene face that immediately caught Nabiki's attention. Kasumi was the first to speak though.

"I was wondering when you'd find me out here. You always were the smartest member of the family." There was a hint of a smirk behind those words, as if the ghost of Ranma's own brand of ego were making itself felt through Kasumi. With a start, Nabiki finally realized what was happening. In a way, Kasumi really was channeling Ranma, or at least was trying her best to do so. From the way she had been more assertive with the family to the way she was practicing martial arts again. Combined with the photo of Ranma in both forms, it was the only thing that made sense.

"You're training to find him, aren't you." It wasn't a question and the smile on Kasumi's face only grew in response. Nabiki struggled to understand the thoughts behind her older sister and realized that she should have seen it sooner. "When did you fall for him sis and why didn't you tell anyone?"

The scoff she got in response wasn't what she expected.

Kasumi looked at her sister, wondering just where those smarts she normally enjoyed had run away to. "Can you image the carnage that would have ensued had I entered the fiancée wars? Not to mention how little sister Akane would have taken things? The way she saw it, Ranma was her property to abuse at will and anyone else who tried to take her property needed to be punished. Only she couldn't punish anyone. They were all better martial artists than her. So she took out her frustrations on the one person who wouldn't hit back. Ranma."

Nabiki listened to Kasumi in morbid fascination, her mind working to assimilate all the information. It all made sense when she looked at it from all the angles. Kasumi was easily the best cook in Nerima, the best housekeeper, one of the prettiest with only Shampoo a contestant for sheer sex appeal. Why wouldn't Akane feel threatened by her had she entered the competition? And of course there was no way that Akane would be able to vent against dear kind Kasumi. Nabiki's eyes widened as she imagined the chaos that would have ensued when Akane saw poor innocent Kasumi being groped by the 'pervert' Ranma. A small shudder escaped her before she could control herself and she looked at Kasumi in wonder. Who knew that there was such a crafty calculating mind hiding behind that apron?

"Why now?" That was the main question that kept rushing through Nabiki's mind, the one that would determine how she acted from here to the future. "Why would you put yourself through this for him after he's gone? Even the amazons and grandpa Happosai haven't been able to track him down? How can you succeed where they have failed?"

It was a very soft voice that answered. "Because I'm the one who sent him away."

Nabiki felt her legs give out under her and would have fallen to the floor of the dojo had Kasumi not caught her. The middle Tendo looked at her older sister in wonder, trying to understand just how much that admission must have cost her and how it had come to past. She tried to give voice to those questions though her vaunted intelligence chose that moment to escape her. The gentle smile on Kasumi's face helped to calm her down to the point that she could get her question across.

Kasumi smile that same serene smile for which everyone knew her, then described her encounter with the Goddess Belldandy and the promise that had been made that day. It was an unbelievable revelation yet there was no denying that Kasumi believed it. More importantly, why would Kasumi lie about anything like that? With that piece of information in hand, all sorts of details made more sense. The way Ranma had disappeared all those months ago, the plaque that stood as a silent testament to the disappearance, even to this day. The way that Kasumi had been more assertive with the family and learning martial arts. All those subtle changes.

Making her way back to her feet, Nabiki considered her sister for a few more silent moments, trying to organize her thoughts. There were so many ways that she could go with the information, but looking into those trusting eyes she knew that she could never sell that news to anyone. "Alright Kasumi, let's see what we can do to help you find him. And when you see him, tell him I miss him, okay?"

Kasumi's answering smile was every bit as bright as the sun kissed snow.

* * *

Morning came quickly to the Becosea Estate on the day after the festivities and in spite of the copious amounts of celebration, most of the members of the estate were up with the sun, seeing to the daily operations of the household. Food was gathered, animals tended to, and member began to return to the workings of the land. There was a special sense of urgency among those workers, as if they could feel the tension in the air.

The men at arms cleaned weapons, knowing that all too soon those weapons would be required. The swish of a whetstone drawn across steel sounded in the air accompanied by the creak of leather being tightened. Within the stables, the estate's few horses were being tended to, with a single war charger standing out amongst the standard mares that were used for the farm work. Everywhere the eye was turned bore the sight of preparation.

These were people who lived among the mountains, along the border of a country with a history of bloodshed. Long have they been aware of the tenuous hold that peace had on the borders. They could see those stresses building but never had they felt that the battle would come to them within their lifetimes. The carnage of the day previous was fresh in their minds as the survivors worked to clear the remaining carnage that had not been taken care of the day before.

Bodies had long since been buried, weapons and belongings gathered from friend and foe alike. Only the wreckage of Ranma's fight with the elemental had been left alone, the ground ragged and torn from the force of the magic wielding upon that spot. Many a head turned to consider the highest point of the manor house.

Ranma Saotome stood on the top of the highest chimney, the wind rustling through his loose pigtail braid. His Chinese silk shirt seemed to catch the rays of the morning sun like a shimmering fire wreathing the warrior, serving to add further to the mystery with which many of the people on the estate regarded the boy. Not that many of the people thought of him as a boy. In their land he was already a man, a blooded warrior and a savior to the people. They'd tried to convey those feelings at the celebration the night before but many couldn't help but feel the boy slipped out earlier than need be.

All those thoughts were lost on Ranma as he gazed towards the horizon, as if searching for some sign to explain why he was there. None was forthcoming. He considered asking one of the mages for a divination, then blinked to himself. Since when did he know anything about mages? Didn't he distrust magic? After all, it had brought him nothing but trouble since the first day at jusenkyo. Examining the though, he realized with a start it wasn't his own memory, but something he'd drawn from the boy whose life he'd saved the day before.

A frown marred his features as he searched for more memories, that frown deepening as the true impact of his healing technique began to dawn upon him. There were more memories than his own available, snippets of thoughts or information that came when called for, or drifted on the sea of consciousness waiting for a link to bring them to the fore. Information about this world. It was the final coffin in his belief that he could return easily to home.

Ranma still had no idea how he had gotten to this world and there were no ideas on how to return home either. The fact that magic existed gave him at least a little hope for the future, yet that hope was tempered by the events of the day before and his own checkered past with magic. There was also a feeling in the air. It was as if the air was electrified, causing the hairs on the back of Ranma's neck to stand on end. A storm was coming, one that would sweep him up and carry him away.

Would he become lost in the turbulence? Would he be able to find his way back home? Did he really want to? What was waiting for him back there? Flashes of memory burst across his sight, faces of people and places. Each one carried their own weight yet none of them really tugged at his heart. This was a better way, a way in which honor could be satisfied for all involved. Ukyo would be able to return to her family, honor fulfilled with no more Ranma Saotome. Shampoo would be released from the kisses of death and marriage with no target or groom. The countless other women that his father had engaged him to would have to secure their revenge against his father.

Only one agreement stood out in Ranma's thoughts, that of the Tendo daughters. He tried to see Akane as his wife. He wasn't as violently against the idea as he projected to those around. It was more of the lack of control over his life that he truly resented. At least at first. Akane had abused his trust and his love over the years and the flame of love that had once burned within his heart had been cooled and extinguished by the lack of fuel.

One face floated in his memories, tugging at his heart strings. The one person who had shown him unconditional caring. Kasumi Tendo. He would miss her and wished he could spare her the suffering that would return with him not there to carry any of the weight of the chores and repairs. Shaking away those thoughts, he tried to focus on the present, knowing that he needed to survive in the new world before he could even consider trying to find a way back to his own.

The sound of a foot skittering on the roof tiles behind him caused Ranma to turn and glance over his shoulder. He caught sight of the youngest Becosea making his way slowly across the tiles, each step deliberate and calculated. Ranma smirked slightly to himself as he considered the sense of balance and poise that was evident in each movement of the man slowly making his way over. The boy was a warrior, even more than any of the other soldiers with the exception of Matthew.

Nathan came to a slow stop near the pigtailed warrior, wondering how he'd known that Ranma would be on the roof. It was as if he could learn things about the man just by concentrating. It took a lot of effort to pull up more than just a fleeting image, but it was worth the effort to understand the man who had saved his life. Saved everyone's lives.

"How can you be so comfortable standing up here?"

It wasn't a question demanding an answer but Ranma decided to provide one nonetheless.

"My art is an aerial one. I've always felt most comfortable in high places. Like the mountains, or flying through the air. Whenever I needed to think, I would jump to the rooftops of the nearest building, away from the people and situations. It helped me clear my head." There was a melancholy to Ranma's words, one that he wasn't even aware of.

Cocking his head to the side, Nathan considered the younger man's words, wondering again at the casual reference to such mighty feats as leaping to the rooftops. Yet those words paled in importance compared to the reference to Ranma's fighting ability as 'The Art'. Having seen Ranma's performance through some of the battle the day before, he readily agreed. There was something in the way that the young man moved that went beyond mere ability. It spoke of a love for fighting. Or maybe it wasn't the fighting itself so much as the challenge, the contest to overcome and to move beyond the limits you had already reached.

More information tried to jog itself free within Nathan's mind and he gave his head a shake as if trying to dislodge that same information. Now was not the time to be distracted, especially considering the consequences of faltering while on a rooftop. That thought caused him to glance over the edge towards the courtyard below, shaking his head in amazement at his own actions. Things had changed so much in so little time. Turning back towards Ranma, Nathan tried to figure out how best to frame what he had to say.

"Those soldiers from yesterday aren't the end of things, Ranma." The words were spoken in a level tone, yet there was an undercurrent of steel that strengthened the importance of what was to come. "I fear that they were only the beginning." Nathan turned his gaze towards the northern horizon, as if scanning for some unseen threat.

"I'm hoping that the army arrives in time to head off any kind of major invasion, but there is no way of telling how far ahead of their soldiers those two scouts groups were and considering how close together they arrived, it can't be that far." There was a glimmer of excitement in those pale blue eyes, yet they were tempered with the knowledge of what could happen to his family, friends and loved ones should he fail to keep the threat from reaching them.

"I never thought I'd see war in my lifetime. I've read the stories, the histories of bloodshed between nations, but those tales were always of years long gone, barely remembered in the books they're recorded in." Shaking his head in sadness, Nathan turned back to the warrior, wondering why he was telling him everything. "It's thankful we are for your help the other day, but this isn't a fight to be taken lightly. And it's not your fight."

Raising his hand to forestall any interruptions, Nathan gazed intently at Ranma. "You're a stranger here, Ranma. I'll be the first to admit that you are a powerful warrior and I doubt there be a man here who would say otherwise. But power isn't enough against a foe the likes of which we are likely to see. I don't have any idea of the scale of the war to come, but I do know that it feels ominous." Turning away from Ranma, he focused his attention on the horizon once again.

"There is a feeling in the air, Ranma. One of foreboding, heralding the presence of an evil that lurks just out of sight. It's close, almost like I can reach out and take hold of the tension." Hand outstretched, Nathan slowly closed his hand into a fist, pulling it towards him. Turning his hand upright, he slowly opened his palm, frowning as if expecting something to be there upon his empty hand. The sound of rushing air snapped his attention back to Ranma.

Glowing with a slightly blue aura, Ranma stood gazing towards the same horizon, surrounded by a short whirlwind. Dust lifted and circled around the warrior, answering the call of his power, a power he didn't even seem to be aware of exerting. A hard light blazed in the sapphire spheres of his eyes, an almost ethereal glow that echoed the corona of light surrounding him. "A martial artist protects the weak, no matter where they are. No matter who they are. This may not be my war, but that will not keep me from fighting in it." Each word was laced with a glaze of frost and strengthened with a core of steel that spoke of an indomitable will.

Ranma's silk clothes rustled in the rush of wind as his aura blazed brighter. Leaning forward, he focused on something just barely seen on the horizon. Frowning, he brought his hands forward, cupping them together. Nathan's eyes went wide as he felt, literally felt the energy pooling in the hands of his rescuer. With an inarticulate roar, Ranma shoved his hands forward, a bolt of blue energy blasting towards the distance, screaming through the air toward its target.

An explosion of blue light showed Ranma's attack had hit something. The air was rent by an inhuman scream, tearing through the unnatural silence that had descended in the wake of Ranma's actions. Slowly, the corona of light faded away, revealing a winged beast with an all too human face. Leathery wings flapped slowly, keeping the creature aloft, though it seemed to be struggling to stay in flight, staggering from moment to moment. It was too far away to make out any details other than the general shape, but there was a definite feeling of malice erupting from the beast.

Eyes narrowed in barely restrained anger, Ranma slowly lowered his hands. There was a feeling in the air that reminded him of the way it felt fighting Saffron. The power levels weren't the same but the sense of malice was definitely there. While fighting the Phoenix Godling, Ranma had felt nothing but hostility from his opponent, as if Saffron took delight in the destruction he was causing. Saffron enjoyed torturing Ranma, holding the cure to Akane's condition out of reach, drawing out the conflict. It was one of the few times that Ranma hadn't enjoyed the conflict itself, the struggle to win.

That same feeling surrounded Ranma now as he glared across the distance at the beast. There were no other words to describe the creature, for it was truly a beast, with no compassion in those black pools that passed for eyes. Leaping from the rooftops, Ranma alighted on the wall surrounded the estate for a moment before bounding into battle. The creature roared in challenge and dashed forward to meet the oncoming warrior.

Nathan looked on in stunned silence, unable to accept the reality of what he had just seen. The beast itself he thought he recognized, at least he thought he knew what it could be. Thrakor were creatures of whispered legends, monsters that drained the soul from the body of their victims, feeding on the very life energy that was a part of every living being. They stole the memories and knowledge of their prey and the older the Thrakor, the more powerful it was likely to be. Yet they were supposed to be only on the Great Southern Continent, never crossing the vast ocean that separated their world's largest landmass from the other two continents.

Ignoring for a moment the impossibility of the creature's existence, Nathan tried to wrap his mind around the performance of Ranma. No one could jump like that without killing themselves. The human body just couldn't do that. Just what was Ranma? Searching those scattered memories didn't help either since all he could sense were the thoughts behind the memories and not the memories themselves.

Shaking himself out of his contemplation, Nathan turned to rush back to the ladder that had been his means of reaching the roof, shouting at the top of his lungs to get everyone's attention. The Thrakor were also rumored to never travel alone and if they could see one of the beasts, there was surely at least one more laying in wait somewhere out of sight, not to mention whatever else might be in the area.

Looking up from where he'd been leaning against the wall of the estate, Matthew caught sight of the youngest Becosea floundering down the ladder. A floundering warrior was an unusual sight but the words being shouted were what really caught Matthew's attention. Bolting upright, he turned to look at the outer wall before reaching down and hefting his axe, hurling himself into motion towards the open gates. If the shouts were to be believed, this is one fight he didn't want to miss.

* * *

Author's Note: I'm going to cut this chapter off here. I've been trying to write Ranma's fight for months now and have scrapped several versions of it. So instead of making you all wait for me to get over my writer's block, I thought I'd share the work that I already have done. 


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